Dangerous Love: You Are My One and Only Bride novel Chapter 1900

Arianne sneered. “You confused, little thing. I wouldn’t be daft enough to anger the mother of the man I like if I were you, girl. I would especially not say anything as low IQ as that, too. Let me be completely frank with you: no one who bears the surname of Leigh will ever get the better of me—the last one failed. Hard. I can guarantee that you’ll leave us in the span of three days. If I lose, you can stay here forever. Wanna bet? I dare you.”

She left her threat hanging at that and turned her wheelchair away, leaving the scorned young woman behind.

Rage came out of Raven as waves of quakes all over her body. She was lurching close to hyperventilation, but right before it became impossible to stop, she came around and battled herself to calm down. She had a feeling that even if she fainted right there and then, no one would discover her, would they?

Now that Arianne and Mark had returned, the Tremont Estate had recovered its vivacity and life. It had become merry.

And Raven Leigh had no part in it.

That night, Arianne—already lying on her bed—found sleep a little more elusive than expected. At this hour, Mark was still talking to his son in the study, while she herself never had the chance to really be with her son since her return.

The night was late, yet she heard a series of soft footsteps inching closer to her room. Thinking it was Mark, the moment the door was pushed open, Arianne asked, “Is our son asleep? What did you talk to him about?”

“It’s me… Mom.”

Hearing Aristotle addressing her, Arianne froze. Suddenly, she was a bit overwhelmed by the urge to cry. “Oh my God, my precious Smore… Why aren’t you asleep yet? What did your father say to you that it went on for so long?”

Aristotle approached her bed and sat by the bedside. “Nothing other than what a father should tell his son, really. Mom, I’m truly happy that you’re awake. And… Thank you for waking up, you know? Everyone’s been waiting for your return for nineteen years, and it’s… great that you didn’t let us down.”

Arianne raised her hand, spurred by the longing to fondle his cheek. Midway, however, she paused and let it hang in the air, worried that Aristotle would not want it.

The young man noticed, so he leaned his face forward to meet her halted hand. His eyes seemed to redden.